


Sadness, In a Minor Key

by ariaadagio



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Angst, Beethoven, Drama, Gen, Historical, Piano, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariaadagio/pseuds/ariaadagio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is 1809, and Nick has once again fled LaCroix to arrive in the great musical city of Vienna, where he meets a composer who suffers from a loss of hearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An old story I pulled off my hard drive. The writing quality isn't as developed as my current stuff, since I wrote it in high school, but I am still very proud of this, simply for the creativity of it all. I decided to write this to explain my favorite lines in the whole of Forever Knight:
> 
> "How 'bout that?"
> 
> "It's a beautiful piece. Do you remember who wrote it?"
> 
> "No, I don't. But it's by Beethoven, right?"
> 
> "Very good!"
> 
> "It's funny, as I was playing just now I remember a friend jotting down notes as I was playing... with a quill. He was hard of hearing. It's weird..."
> 
> Why was that the first thing he remembered in Night in Question? There had to be some importance to it all, and  
> this was my attempt to explain it.

The soft strains of a familiar bagatelle swept through the loft as Natalie exited from the lift. Fur Elise. Probably one of the most well-known pieces of music to ever grace the Earth, written by a phenomenal composer, and yet so over -played it had become the classical equivalent to Happy Birthday. But now, as Nick played it, Natalie couldn't help but hear a difference. How much more sad and tormented it seemed, even when his graceful fingers progressed to the lesser known second part that, to Natalie, had always sounded like a happy dance through the country.

"Natalie..." Nick whispered softly, almost regretfully, not bothering to open his eyes as she approached him. He simply continued playing, his body swaying minutely as he sat hunched and tensed over the keys, pouring as much emotion into the piece through the narrow columns of his fingers as he possibly could.

"Nick, it sounds beautiful," she replied, her voice soft and filled with awe as she brought her hands to rest on his strong, broad shoulders.

His eyes still did not open. He seemed not to be paying attention to her, as if he didn't care or didn't notice that she was standing right behind him. His entire being was being placed into the music. "No one plays it right anymore..." he stated sadly, his body quivering slightly under the feather-light touch of her fingertips. Trembling...

Finally, he reached the end. The music stopped. The seconds ticked by and Natalie waited patiently, but Nick stayed wrapped up in his own little world. Still and silent, he sat there poised over the keys, long enough to make Natalie feel the slight beginnings of discomfort.

"I, uh," she began, clearing her throat with a hesitant cough in an effort to stop the dismal mood of the loft from crushing her. "I wanted to see how you were doing. Did your talk with LaCroix help?" she asked, intending to be understanding and sympathetic, but even as she mentioned _his_ name, she couldn't help but shiver with loathing. Even worse, it made her angry that Nick had sought _him_ instead of _her_ to help him recover.

Nick finally opened his sad blue eyes and looked at her bleakly. "Yes, I remember everything now," he stated bluntly, his tone cold and strangely detached. His shoulders shook with strain, and his chest gave a mighty heave before he grew eerily silent again, as if he were attempting to overcome some unseen force. Perhaps it was the guilt that was weighing him down now, perhaps the sadness of all his past lives. She doubted he would divulge his torment to her. He never did.

But she had come for answers to another question, one that had about the same probability of getting answered as Nick confessing what had happened with LaCroix to make him so glum. Regardless, her curiosity was piqued. She had to try... "Nick, can I ask you a question?" she began hesitantly.

He looked back at her, eyes awash with infinite pain, but face as cold as stone. "Do I have to answer?" he asked her gruffly. She was taken aback by his bluntness, although somewhat comforted by the fact that it wasn't aimed at her, suspecting that it was just an effort to mask his own pain. It must've been so hard for him to regain so many bad memories at once...

"No... not if you don't want to. It's just..." she paused, unsure as to whether this was a good idea or not. He almost never told her of his past; what would make this time any different?

He sat there silently, his eyes daring her to intrude on his own wallowing guilt as though he expected his stare to be an impenetrable wall.

His glare, however, was enough to bolster her own stubborn side, and she plunged onward. "I want to know why the first thing you remembered was that song," she commanded, her voice much more firm than she felt. It was selfish of her, she knew, but a part of her needed to know why he had remembered that first, and not her...

"What song?" he asked.

He was playing dumb with her, she was certain, and all at once she felt her cheeks flushing red with anger. How dare he... "Fur Elise..." she stated coolly, trying to contain herself.

Nick looked at her sharply, as if she'd just struck a sensitive nerve. He sat there silently, staring with a forlorn look at the piano which he had been playing so beautifully only moments before. For a brief moment, Natalie thought she'd lost the battle of wills and that he simply wasn't going to tell her.

He got up, much to her surprise, and with a heavy sigh he moved to his large, black-leather easy-chair. "No one plays it right anymore..." he repeated softly, and then to Natalie's surprise, he began to tell his tale.

* * *

 

**VIENNA 1809**

The candlelight in the corner where he sat was sparse, at best, softly flickering over his pale face in a manner that made him appear to be a heavenly being of Godly countenance.

But God scorned creatures such as he.

Nick grimaced harshly at the thought, so intent on brooding that he wasn't really paying attention to the din that surrounded him.

Until now.

There was a group of men a few tables away, smiling smiles that extended beyond mere curves of their lips into subtly cheerful wrinkles around their eyes. Rosy cheeks and warm skin flashed as toothy grins were traded back and forth, their boisterous laughter virtually shaking the room in which they sat, vibrating against his own still heart in a subtle mockery of his own desperate loneliness. They didn't know a killer was sitting among them.

There were others in the large, dim room, indeed, but there were none sitting so close. The rest were but a cheerful ambience. These men... These men were the life of the small tavern. They alone had set the mood.

A sad hint of a smile marred Nick's lips as he watched them conversing lightheartedly. Now that... that was one thing he sorely missed from his mortal days. He had lacked a true and trustworthy comrade since the day Janette had walked into his life.

It hurt to watch them.

He looked away as a small frown invaded his face, turning his eyes down towards his clasped hands. The mild pain emanating from his stomach was growing increasingly hard to ignore with each passing moment.

The laughing men didn't know.

They didn't know that he would have to hunt tonight to quiet his terrible desires. The hunger that dwelled in his abdomen was sure to erupt into an unstoppable bestial fury if he were to let it go for another night-he'd already abstained for a week. But now... he was regretting the decision to wait until he arrived in Vienna. It made the urgency of his plight all the worse since he hadn't fed while traveling.

"Sir? Sir, are you unwell? Can I get you anything?"

A young woman stood there quietly, her white apron spread fully across her pale, worn dress. Small and hesitant, a smile crossed her thin lips as he reluctantly brought his eyes to look upon her.

Nick groaned softly, desperately trying to drown out the sound of her wildly beating heart, the laughter of his jovial neighbors suddenly fading into the background. Threatening to split his head in two, the rampant pounding of the girl's heart refused to cease its torturous, hypnotic song. His nostrils flared delicately as he caught wind of her. The tangy scent of the blood in her veins smelled glorious to his acute olfactory sense, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to deny the golden amber he knew was surely there.

"Sir?" the woman questioned softly, her feminine voice rich with concern as she placed a warm hand on his sleeve.

He took a deep breath and furiously willed the vampire away, finally able to bring his stunning blue eyes to look at her squarely. But the instant his eyes met with hers, he found himself grabbing the hand which she had so gently placed on his arm, and he flung it away. Take her, take her, take her! She's so warm and hot and innocent... You could have her blood running through your veins. Burning you... Take her, damn you!

"No!" he whispered hoarsely, his breath coming in heaving gasps as he fought to overcome his inner demon. The thin column of her neck pulsed wickedly as she gasped at his outburst and swallowed, backing up a step.

Away from him...

Immediately, he regretted his actions. With as pleasant a smile as he could muster, he nodded his head. "I apologize and thank you, but I shall not have anything tonight," he said warmly, despite the utter coldness he felt.

He would certainly have something tonight. Just not what she could offer to serve him-not reasonably, anyway.

The maid looked shaken, but she nodded and went on to another, more inviting table. "Wait..." he wanted to whisper, but no sound came from his lips, only a silent gasp of air. He sighed and placed his head heavily in his hands.

Had he become so uncivilized that he couldn't even talk to _one_ of them? Forget the table of laughing comrades, he couldn't even converse with but one frightened barmaid. The loneliness that was threatening to overwhelm him gripped his heart and shook it terribly within his chest. He felt jarred, out of place.

_You_ don't belong anywhere but with me!

Nick squeezed his eyes shut, trying to deny the words he had so recently fled from. He knew LaCroix would catch up with him eventually, find him despite his efforts to remain inconspicuous, but could he not enjoy his brief freedom while it lasted?

No, it seemed that now his torment was only greater, even in his tormentor's absence.

He sighed.

So lonely...

"I swear! What a scoundrelly phiz!" an angry, flustered voice suddenly cried out above the soft murmur of voices that littered the room.

Nick's head snapped up in the direction of the disturbance, like a bird of prey scoping out a possible meal.

A dark man sat there alone at a table in the opposite corner, his hair a wild wave of fury atop his head, complimenting the smug grin that was now on his face. Nick looked at him, appalled. It appeared as if the man had not met with a comb or any means of grooming in an eternity barely shorter than the one Nick knew himself... A savage air fitted him like a glove to a hand, and Nick found it quite disconcerting to see a mortal so affected with a mood that would better suit himself...

The man who had cried out, a well-dressed red-head, shoved off from the wild-man's table with a disgusted look, and to Nick's surprise, the wild-man spat on the floor at the other man's feet. "You are a savage, Herr Beethoven! You disgust me!" the man cried and rushed out the door with such haste it was as if some unseen force propelled him forward. The wild-man just smiled and went back to his drink.

Nick's eyes widened as his thought processes screeched to a halt. Herr Beethoven? No... He shook his head. It couldn't be. Impossible. The genius composer would not be, _could not_ be such a savage, crazy man...

No. It was crazy. Inconceivable. He had heard wrong.

He got up quickly, the swiftness of a deadly predator keeping his feet soft and silent against the heavy wooden floor. No one in the tavern noticed his departure into the frigid night. Not that they would have cared-strangers to the city of Vienna were regular occurrences.

Growling softly, he stared into the night, keenly observing the few people who were out in the darkness, his hot breath clawing outward from his mouth in a misty cloud of moisture. The hunger burned brightly within him.

He had to feed.

Now.

Launching forward on his feet, bringing up a spray of dusty snow, he began to prowl the darkened streets in search of prey. There was a symphony of heartbeats surrounding him, almost to the point of overwhelming him. But... which one would he snuff out? Which one would have the misfortune?

It was agony to choose.

He was not God. He had no right, and yet there he was, stalking in the night like he owned the very streets he walked.

"Stop! Thief!" a gnarled woman's frightened voice cried from across the street, her long fingers pointing wildly down the street at a fleeing individual. Nick couldn't help but smile regretfully. At least... At least the vampire's unfortunate victim would deserve it tonight, although it did little to soothe him as he focused on the fleeing man.

The man's heart was beating wildly in Nick's ears now, strong and persistent as he was pursued, beating even faster when the man realized he was being stalked... Skillfully, through turn after turn in the snowy streets, Nick corralled his victim to a side-street and into a dark corner.

Nick honed in on the sound of the man's heart pounding viciously in his chest as his veins pumped with sheer terror. The sound was like a sweet song of finely tuned tympanis in his ears. Delicious. Ah... to be finally assuaged.

Shaking terribly, the man backed against the cold brick wall. The beast within quivering for a long-denied release, Nick snarled savagely and advanced upon him. "What in God's name are you?" the man cried as his back hit the wall with a thump. His broad chest heaved in fear, his eyes wide like a man who had just set eyes on some ungodly specter, a stunned rabbit cowering before the hunter.

Nick felt a brief pang in his heart at the fear, and out of shame, did not answer as he gripped the man harshly and spun him around so that he was granted better access to the neck. The joy of the hunt that had consumed him had strangely left him now that he was so close to fulfillment. Now it was only the guilt.

But he was so hungry...

He hissed softly and clamped his jaw down on the man's pulsing neck, Nick's elongated fangs piercing the soft flesh. The second his pearly teeth broke the skin, hot blood immediately spurted into his mouth.

It burned his throat. Ecstasy! He groaned in pleasure. Even better, the sweet ambrosia was imbued with fear. Delicious, heart-wrenching, mind-numbing fear. He growled savagely and buried his fangs deeper into his victim's neck, viciously ripping his jaw back and forth like a lion attacking its prey.

The guilt was gone. It was all about the kill now.

Why would you ever want to give this up to become one of _them_?

"DEMON! Get your claws off of him!"

A terrible pain ripped through his side, and Nick let his prey go in surprise. The man he had taken blood from fell to the ground and scrambled away woozily. Whimpering in pain, Nick gripped the jagged knife that had been embedded in his side, but was unable to pull it out as he looked wildly about for his attacker. Three burly men had come out of nowhere. "Devil! Kill it!"

Stupid. How did you let them corner you?

They came upon him brutally, beating him into the cold snow. Too weak, from hunger and from surprise, to fight, he had no time to react. What little sustenance he'd gotten from his intended victim tonight was simply not enough to bolster his strength. They hadn't even given him a chance...

_You_ don't belong anywhere but with me!

He blinked. His face was numb as he lay there in the dirty slush, and he stared weakly at the shoe of his attacker through blurred vision. It shifted about in front of him almost imperceptibly as his attacker moved his weight to the other foot. Vaguely, he could feel his blood spilling out into the snow, but there was nothing he could do. He was splayed on the ground like a broken rag doll, and trying to move his arm from underneath his heavy body to staunch the flow resulted in nothing but pain.

It was useless. He gave up and resigned himself to his ugly fate.

"Is it dead?" one of them asked with a whisper, the aggressiveness gone from his voice as if he had suddenly realized what he'd done.

The second of the three spat in disgust. "No. Just leave it for the sun. Let's go..."

He heard their footsteps retreating loudly, crunching in the soft snow as the trio disappeared into the waning night.

Help me... God, the sun... He didn't mind dying, he accepted it, he deserved it, but... the pain of the sun... His fear of it brought him into a panicked frenzy. Agony ripped through his body as he thrashed weakly about with a stream of pitiful whimpers emanating from his throat. He was cold, and frozen, and bloody.

And he was doomed.

He shivered. Cold... He wasn't used to facing the effects of extreme temperatures...

It seemed as though he stared straight ahead for hours, bloody tears streaming down his frost-bitten cheeks until they froze in place. But, just when he was sure that the sun would grace the horizon and kiss him good morning, a soft, warm hand turned him over with a light grunt, patting his cheeks in an obvious attempt to make Nick lucid.

As he looked up through amber-colored vision, Nick couldn't help but groan in pain. His frozen hands reflexively clutched around the knife in his gut now that they were free from underneath his deadweight body. What on Earth? He squinted, trying to focus his misbehaving eyes, trying to figure out what was going on.

Coughing, with blood coming up his throat and out of his mouth in a trickle of spittle, Nick choked slightly as the wild-man from the bar sat him up, his face showing some concern.

The pain was simply too much for Nick to bear, and as the blackness enveloped him, he heard the soft mumble come from above him, a voice that was thick with disuse, like an out- of-tune piano... From the wild-man.

"Vampire..."

*****


	2. Chapter 2

It was quiet. And dark. And warm. And cozy.

He smiled, not wanting to move an inch. What a wonderful inn, such service, they must've gotten him after...

OHMY!

Nick sat up like a slingshot that had just been released, only to be greeted with immediate, lancing pain in his side and a dull ache pretty much everywhere else. "AUGH!" he cried out brokenly as he clutched at his abdomen and slowly lay back down to appease his protesting innards.

Trying to blink the pain away, Nick lay still as bloody tears streamed down his face. He stared at the ceiling, making not a sound as his eyes uncontrollably filled and overflowed. Luckily, despite it all, he felt no hunger-it had already been assuaged. But how?

And by whom?

Where was he?

What was he doing here?

The questions were overwhelming him now, and it was killing him to know that if he got up it would hurt him just as badly as the agonizing torture of not knowing. Gently fingering the wound in his side with the skill of an individual who'd been injured countless times before, he found that at least it hadn't opened again, but the probing he was giving the tender area still made him wince. One thing was for sure: if he'd been mortal, he'd probably be dead. The knife had been serrated, and the man who'd stabbed him with it had obviously given it a twist for good measure.

Nick sighed. Well maybe he could...

This time he sat up as slowly as he could manage, and he found the pain to be a definite nuisance, but certainly bearable. He glanced around, finally taking in his surroundings.

The room he was in was quite large, and very ornate. The bed where he lay was grand, and yet, despite its size, the wood-tiled floor sprawled outwards from it for what seemed like eternity until it finally hit the white trimming around the edges of the room. Dark, cascading burgundy drapes were drawn across the bay windows, a dim outline of light the only evidence that it was indeed daytime. That, and the usual buzzing feeling in the back of his mind.

Hesitantly, he shifted and dropped his right foot slowly to the cold floor, noticing for the first time that he was in a clean set of clothes, untorn and unbloodied. Why... Why would anyone have wanted to save him, least of all the savage wild-man that had seen fit to spit at another man's feet? No benevolent man would do such a horrendous, vulgar act. So why? Nick racked his brain for answers, but came up with none, only winding up exceedingly frustrated for his efforts.

Even more hesitantly than he had slipped his feet to the floor, he stood up. It hurt. A lot. But it was bearable. The wound was still closed, and the spare rag bandage that covered it underneath his shirt remained unstained despite his earlier probing.

He took a step, surprised at the ache in his muscles, and then took another. And soon, he was at the door of the large bedroom, looking back at where he'd lain for only God knew how long in the care of a strange man he'd never met before. It was slightly disturbing, but the thought served to press him onward.

Pulling the door open cautiously, he was relieved to find the hallway both uninhabited, and safely traversable. While there were a few patches of sunlight here and there, they were easily avoidable.

As he stepped out of the hallway, the strains of soft piano music filled the air. The tune sounded forced, and definitely not played at all skillfully, but Nick was not one to judge. He knew nothing of the piano, despite the fact that he desperately wanted to learn. Ever since he'd seen the prodigy composer Wolfgang Mozart play blindfolded for a crowd, he'd wanted it.

But time had simply not permitted. Fleeing from LaCroix had him constantly skipping towns and cities very shortly after he took up residence. He didn't have time to transport a piano with him, let alone find a new teacher in every new region that he visited.

"No, Therese..." said a thick, male voice, the same that he had heard the night before, or at least what he hoped was the night before, followed by a rap that could've only been something hitting against the top of the piano.

The playing stopped for a moment and started again; the same hesitant, soft sound that had permeated the halls before began again. "Therese, no! Your rhythm is off," said the voice again, although slightly more annoyed this time. Another rap at the piano.

Nick heard a frustrated sigh as he drew closer to a small staircase, and he quickly identified that the sound was filtering up from there. Again the playing stopped and restarted. But it didn't take long before... "Therese, NO! Did you not practice anything that I gave you?" the voice cried, this time very incensed.

"Ludwig, I'm sorry!" cried a feminine voice whose owner was obviously close to tears.

"Therese, how do you expect me to teach you to play if you will not practice?" the male voice scolded harshly.

"I'm..." A sob followed, and then the flutter of footsteps as tiny feet fled the room.

"Therese..." a sad whisper replied.

But it was too late. Nick could see, as he descended slowly into a large room where a beautiful Viennese piano sat, that the room that had once been inhabited by two was now inhabited by one. The wild-man was sitting on the bench, his head in his hands, and for some reason Nick found himself wanting to go and comfort the man. An impenetrable wall of sunlight, however, prevented him from advancing any further into the room.

An angry growl fell from the wild-man's lips as he ran his hands through his unruly brown hair. "Sir?" Nick called hesitantly, wincing as his muscles again protested movement, but the man did not look up. "Sir?!" Nick called, slightly louder this time, but the man still did not look up. Something was wrong...

But strangely, as if he had sensed a presence in the room, the man stopped, his head lying silently in his hands for a few long moments before he brought his eyes upwards to look at Nick. "Ah, it's you..." he said softly as he wiped his eyes, a gesture of fatigue that Nick recognized instantly. "How do you fare?" he inquired curiously.

Nick nodded slightly, despite the growing ache in his side and pretty much everywhere else. "Well, thank you..." he replied as he stood there, several inches behind the wall of natural light. Tracing the line that separated him from the wild-man with his eyes, he stared back at his 'captor'. He still had no idea what was going on. Was this friend or foe? Unease sat heavily on his shoulders.

Suddenly, the wild-man hopped up, snapping his fingers as a thought came to him, one that he obviously felt was very important. "I'm sorry..." he murmured as he raced to the draperies and pulled them shut.

Nick stood there, stunned, as the room was bathed in blessed darkness. How could this man know so much about him? How did he know about vampires? He obviously did...

The man approached him with a smile. "I am Ludwig von Beethoven. Welcome to my home..."

Although his feet stayed firmly planted to the floor, Nick felt like he'd been knocked back a step. He'd thought he'd heard wrong before, and then when the woman had called him Ludwig, he'd purposely ignored that, too, but here... here there was no question that he'd heard correctly. No question at all.

"Ni... Nicholas de Brabant," he responded automatically as his eyes flew to the small piano again. That wasn't just a piano. That was _Beethoven's_ piano... The piano that Beethoven had probably sat at to tinker out the notes of the Eroica, the Moonlight Sonata... Nick's heart quickened at the prospect.

Beethoven squinted at him as if he were listening to Nick very hard, although Nick couldn't see why. He wasn't speaking very softly... "Why..." Nick began, but Beethoven put his hand up to shush him.

"You are a vampire, are you not?" he asked bluntly, his voice gruff, and Nick still couldn't figure out why it sounded so... Well... It was as if the man hardly ever spoke at all, like a door that creaks terribly when it's been left to rust on its hinges.

"How did you..."

"I have heard the stories... it wasn't that hard to figure out once I caught a glimpse of you in the alley..."

Nick's eyes widened at the thought. "You saved me," he stated softly, still unable to figure out why this man, this famous composer, would ever want to save a hideous creature like himself...

Beethoven was staring at him, unblinking, his eyes never leaving Nick's lips. He found it rather disturbing to be so intently stared at, very strange indeed. It made Nick shudder, involuntarily.

"Is it true? What they say?" Beethoven asked softly, his voice the awestruck sound of a young boy first exposed to the beauties of the world outside his own small home.

"I'm not sure what you mean..." Nick hedged, beginning to worry about where this dangerous conversation was headed.

Beethoven sighed a frustrated sigh and shuffled his feet in a sign of impatience. He wanted something, that much was clear... "My father once told me, when I was a young boy, that there were terrible creatures that stalked the night." Nick cringed as the composer began to explain, self-disgust overwhelming him. He was the embodiment of that terrible creature...

Beethoven, however, did not notice Nick's discomfort with the subject, and he plunged onward. "He told me that they lived off of human beings as if they were cattle, but in exchange for that heinous sin, they were granted immortality, incredible healing capacity, and hence became addicted to their ungodly acts. At the time, I considered it a reason to stay indoors at night, but now..." His voice trailed off as he reached the end of his explanation, his eyebrow raised in silent inquiry.

Nick offered no reaction whatsoever as he felt his stomach dropping into his feet, hoping that he could dodge the subject entirely. Far too many mortals had been mistakenly enchanted with the idea of living forever without having the foresight to look at the other side of it. The side that was death and guilt and inhumanity. It was obvious to him that, sadly, Beethoven had become a victim of that misconception.

"I want you to make me like you..." Beethoven said seriously, his voice cracking with emotion.

Nick felt the rage erupt from him before he could stop it, and he snarled viciously at his host. "You want to be like me? A monster? You don't know what you ask..." he hissed and backed away, suddenly wishing desperately that he wasn't wounded, and that it wasn't daylight. As things stood now, this man could probably take him in a fight...

"I do know what I ask..." Beethoven replied with surety, his eyes ablaze with a passion that had been absent before.

"You are in the light of God, a light that I stepped out of centuries ago..." Nick argued back, trying to knock some sense into the man. He snarled again, showing off his sharp canines in an attempt to ward Beethoven away from his misguided concept of the vampire. Let Beethoven see the beast that he said he wanted to become.

But Beethoven merely laughed, a cynical-sounding grunt almost. "I am in the light of God? God?" he questioned, visibly seething. "Well tell me, Nicholas de Brabant, if I were in the light of God, why would He have taken away my most prized possession? Why would He have made one of the world's greatest composers as deaf as the muddy earth we walk on?" Beethoven asked viciously, defeat and pain dripping from his tone.

Nick found that he could not answer, instantly feeling a sympathy for the man who was standing before him, despite his condescending words. Words that explained everything. The strange sound to Beethoven's voice, the intent way in which he listened. The world's greatest composer since Mozart couldn't hear...

"Tell me!" Beethoven demanded, shaking Nick roughly to the point that Nick couldn't help but gasp in pain. "Tell me where my supposed God is now!" he cried viciously, but when he noticed Nick's agonized expression, he removed his hands.

"I'm sorry," Beethoven murmured, beginning a sincere apology. "I did not intend to harm you... but... I want to be able to hear again. You, ironic as it may sound, are my only prayer, and if sacrificing my time in the sunlight means that I get my most precious gift back, I would gladly make the trade..."

Nick fought valiantly to catch his breath, but his side was protesting just as valiantly. "I need to sit," he gasped with a heaving breath as the dizziness overcame him, but it was obvious that Beethoven couldn't hear him. Without waiting to be offered one, he fumbled to a seat. Politeness had pretty much been discarded as soon as his legs had threatened to give out.

Finally, he was able to regroup himself. Despite the abominable request the composer had just made, there was... well, Nick had to admit that there was sense in his arguments.

Beethoven sat in a chair opposite to him, distressed. He began to run his hands through his wild, mangy hair again, incensed and yet seemingly unwilling to let himself pace it out of his system.

Nick watched the man with interest. Here was an individual filled with as much pain as he, and yet, it was of a different kind. While Nick had erringly walked out of the light, Beethoven seemed to have been thrown viciously from it, offered no choice whatsoever in the matter. And for some reason... Nick felt himself drawn to this man more strongly than he had been to any other mortal, even Alyssa. Her sweet, innocent smile, which had so enamored him before, was nothing when compared to this angry man's soul. A soul to which he could relate.

A soul that was in pain...

"I will consider your request," Nick finally admitted after the longest of silences, speaking loudly so Beethoven could hear him. So help him if he was making a mistake... A voice in the back of his mind was screaming in protest, 'NO, NO, IT IS A MISTAKE... BACK OUT!' but he purposefully ignored it.

Beethoven looked up with a smile. "Thank you," he replied sincerely, sitting forward in his chair.

"But only on one condition," Nick added. Here... well, here was a chance he was likely never to receive again. And he would take it.

Beethoven nodded, prodding him to name his price.

"You will teach me to play the piano," Nick said, more of a command than a request, his voice suddenly filling with the snobbish air of an aristocrat. Strangely, Nick had always found it easy to fall back into that role.

Beethoven, however, paid his arrogant tone no mind, and his lips spread into a wide grin. "Yes, Herr de Brabant. I would be happy to," he said, visibly pleased with the trade and giddy at the prospect of possibly being granted his request.

"Please, that's too formal for my tastes," Nick said, trying to ignore the lump forming in his throat, "Call me Nick."

Beethoven raised his eyebrow. "That is an unusual request. Nick, eh?" he questioned, the shortened name sitting strangely on his tongue as he uttered it.

"Only one person calls me Nicholas anymore..." Nick clarified, hesitating. "And I," he paused again, trying to find the words, "well, I do not care for him much." It was the honest truth, if a bit over-simplified.

Beethoven nodded. "And you must call me Ludwig."

They sat in companionable silence as the seconds on the nearby grandfather clock ticked away. Nick took the time to observe the large room he occupied. The decorations that were set about certainly indicated that Beethoven was an affluent man, or at least pretty well off. It made sense-he was currently one of the most popular composers in the great musical city of Vienna... and all of Europe, for that matter.

As he glanced about, Nick's eyes fell on the piano. It was a beautiful mahogany, four thin legs tapering down from a sleek, thin body. Obviously meant to be used by a very fine pianist, its crafting was purposeful and very well-done. Although Nick didn't play the instrument, he did know a well-crafted one when he saw it.

And as he looked there at the fine instrument, he felt saddened that he hadn't yet had a chance to learn. Considering himself to be a connoisseur of music, even going so far as to dabble in a few instruments here and there, he had yet to try the avant-garde and ever popular pianoforte.

"Why do you frown?" Beethoven asked quietly, his voice tearing through the silence.

Nick was startled from his thoughts at the intrusion. He hadn't even realized he was frowning... "I am not happy..." he answered simply.

"A good reason, I suppose..." Beethoven hazarded, although disappointed that he hadn't received more of an answer. "Would you like to try it?" he asked softly, his dark, penetrating eyes darting to the piano that Nick had been admiring moments before.

Nick felt something in his chest lift at the thought. "Already? I thought we would work out times for me to have lessons..." His voice trailed off, suddenly realizing that he hadn't a clue what he'd gotten himself into, not even the smallest inkling.

"Do you have a place to stay?" Beethoven asked.

"What?" Nick was surprised by the question, and Beethoven's seemingly random subject changes.

"I did not think so. You will stay here and study with me. Now sit at the piano," he commanded, and Nick, for an instant, was shocked. How dare a mortal talk to him in such a manner! And then he was relieved that he had been offered shelter. And grateful. It was indeed a strange progression of emotions.

Finally, Nick obeyed and sat himself on the small bench in front of the keys. "Now, this is how we will proceed," Beethoven began, sitting at the piano next to Nick. "You will successfully perform a task that I instruct you to do, and when you do, I will ask you a question that you must answer truthfully."

Nick, who was staring at the keys of the small piano in awe, quickly turned his head towards Beethoven. "But... that doesn't seem fair. What do I get out of it?" he found himself asking without thinking. You ungrateful little... How could you ask that, he demanded silently of himself.

Offense, however, was not taken. Beethoven merely smiled. "You will see," he replied cryptically.

Nick was more confused than ever now, but he chose not to reply, opting rather to wait for instructions. But the instruction that Beethoven gave, well, that was not quite what he was expecting. "Play," Beethoven commanded.

"What?!" Nick exclaimed. "I don't know how! That's why I'm here!" he yelled as his temper flared, and he suddenly found himself regretting the deal he had made, but Beethoven paid his outburst no mind.

"Put your hands on the keys; your left pinky should be on lower C, your right thumb on middle C," he responded patiently.

"Well..." Nick looked down at the keyboard in confusion, his eyes darting from the lower bass notes to the high ones on the right, praying that somehow one of the keys would simply shout 'I'm middle C!' or something. "Where's that?" he finally asked, giving in to the fact that while he knew how to read music, he couldn't even begin to fathom the keyboard that sat so innocently in front of him... Beethoven merely grabbed his hands and placed them on the keyboard, making sure Nick's fingers were properly curved and in the correct position.

"Now. Play," Beethoven repeated.

Nick's eyes widened, as if someone had requested the world of him. And at the very same time, he felt a growing respect for his new teacher, although he didn't know why. "Play what?" he questioned, slightly fearful of what the answer would be.

"Your heart..." Beethoven whispered in response.

Nick swallowed and looked down at the keys. How could he play his heart? It was just a dead thing sitting still and silent in his chest. But Beethoven prodded him onward. "Play..." he repeated.

Nick pressed his left thumb down and was greeted with a light, firm tone. His middle and pinky fingers went down next, and he was greeted with a nice-sounding chord-a C chord. Plinking a few more notes out onto the keys, he began to get the feel for the sound and its subtle overtones, what combinations of keys produced which harmonies, and where everything was situated.

And soon he was playing. Really playing. He didn't know where it came from or how, but suddenly it was as if his soul were pouring out onto the keyboard through his fingertips. Hands flying across the keys, he barely paid attention as Beethoven got up from the bench. The sad, tormented music flowed through the air. While it was light and airy at first, it soon became dark and brooding, modeling particularly the moods he had been feeling lately.

Time passed, but he did not notice it passing. His music flowed, but he did not notice it flowing. He felt like he was having an intimate tête-à-tête with his soul. It felt strange, and new, and good, and he wanted it to never end. But, to his dismay, it was over as quickly as it had started. The real world had intruded once again, and he found himself sitting there with his fingers poised over the keys, unmoving.

It was then that he realized what he had just accomplished. "How did I... I mean... I can't... I've never..." Nick stuttered inarticulately, amazed with himself.

"Nick, the musically inclined do not need instruction, they need encouragement. You do not have to know the mechanics and the fingering to play an unwritten piece, as long as you have the coordination... Now, if I had presented you with a page of music, you'd probably still be sitting there wondering what to do. The sheet music, for you, would be an impediment..." Beethoven explained patiently.

Nick found it too hard to believe, and was protesting almost as soon as his new mentor was finished. "But I..." This was not an orthodox teaching strategy... Wasn't he supposed to learn scales or something first?

"You will learn how to play in the technical sense of the word later; right now you are just exploring," Beethoven interrupted him, answering Nick's question as if it had been voiced aloud. "Now play more."

And for some reason, Nick found himself blindly obeying, as if his fingers had lives of their own. Again, they were racing across the keys in a flurry of arpeggios and other spectacular finger acrobatics.

"Nick, you play beautifully..." Beethoven whispered, his head placed on the lid of the piano. His hair flared out around his head like a lion's mane, and his face was bright and awed as he lifted his head to look at Nick.

Nick looked back at Beethoven, noticing for the first time that he had moved from his position beside Nick to his current hovering stance over the lid of the piano. "What are you doing?" Nick asked as he allowed his fingers to stop their flight over the keys, trying to figure out why Beethoven was standing above the piano so strangely.

"Tell me how long you have walked this Earth," Beethoven replied, avoiding the question Nick had posed for him.

The question stabbed him in the chest like a knife. He'd forgotten the conditions of this learning experience when he'd gotten lost in his music. "I... Six hundred years, roughly," he commented softly, and he regretted making Beethoven strain so to hear him, but it pained him to say it.

Six hundred years of sin and torment. Six hundred years without a God to lead him home...

Beethoven's eyes widened, but he did not appear to be surprised. He merely drew in a deep breath and began, "I was feeling your music. Sometimes I find it easier to feel than to listen now... My hearing comes and goes without warning. Right now I have been somewhat better, but the habit, once I grew into it, has not stopped. Here, stand here." Beethoven motioned to the space he occupied with a wide sweep of his broad hands, stepping aside as he did so.

Doing as he had asked, Nick watched as Beethoven sat at his beautiful piano and began to play. Although the tune started very similar to Nick's foray, it soon became angry. Nick could feel the harsh vibrations of the strings through the lid of the piano, coursing upward through the aged wood and rattling his eardrums viciously.

Fury. Fury was pouring out of Beethoven now, and the piano shook as he pounded at the keys. Nick was slightly unsettled, but he remained, listening, feeling, learning. The twangs that were ringing through the rich mahogany were almost painful now, painful as Beethoven wrung every emotion out of the strings he could, utilizing such a wide range of dynamics that Nick was, at first, horrified.

No one played like this. A piano piece was supposed to be light, melodic, and pure, but this was none of those things. The little Viennese piano could barely take the strain of such emotional shifts, and he was very surprised that the legs of the piano hadn't already snapped. Yet the more Nick listened and felt, the more he grew to appreciate what he was hearing. It was far more powerful than anything Mozart or Haydn, or any other composer he was familiar with, had ever produced. He was sure that he was hearing what was to be the wave of the future. He was positive.

And then it stopped. Nick gasped as the beautiful sound left a void in its wake.

Beethoven looked up and took a deep, cleansing breath. "Why do you hate what you are?" he asked, brushing his wild hair away from his face. Little streams of sweat were cascading down over his forehead and cheeks, and he patted them away with a cloth from his pocket.

"Because God loathes what I am..." Nick answered automatically. But somehow, that didn't really seem to fit anymore. Beethoven waited patiently while he pondered the question further and finally came up with, "Because I hate what I must do to live."

Nick looked down at the floor in shame. "I... I need to go out tonight. My wound is not fully healed and I need..." he stumbled over the words, unable to admit what he required, suddenly afraid that Beethoven's hospitality would run out the second the composer finally realized whom and what he was dealing with.

Beethoven smiled calmly in response. "The butcher can give you what you need. I have already acquired enough for a little while," he said as he stood.

Feeling the weight of a ton of guilt lifting from his shoulders was like a breath of fresh air, and Nick inhaled deeply with a smile. No one would die at his hands tonight. The butcher had always been off limits to him in the past, simply because such businesses did not usually operate after dark and because LaCroix had heavily frowned upon it. But now, it seemed, it was an option. "Ludwig, I shall not forget your kindness..."

Beethoven dodged the issue at hand again, as he was so apt at doing. "Nick..." he began with a whisper, "I don't profess to know what God hates and does not hate, nor do I claim to know the reasons for his obvious dislike of my own person, but I doubt He is as petty as you claim, to deny you, a man of such obvious, if not misguided, piety..."

"I..." Nick began, but he simply did not know how to continue. "Tell me of Therese," he requested bluntly, finding himself suddenly remembering the young woman who had fled the room earlier.

Beethoven looked slightly shocked at the change of subject, and Nick couldn't help but feel a little smug. Ha! See how _you_ like it! The pain that entered Beethoven's eyes then, however, quickly silenced those feelings, and regret stabbed at Nick's heart.

"Therese... is none of your concern," Beethoven stated gruffly, but it was obvious to Nick what the real problem was. Beethoven was in love with her.

Nick, however, had no time to ponder it. Beethoven pivoted quickly on his feet and left the room with a heavy sigh, and an infinitely more heavy heart.

*****


	3. Chapter 3

**THE PRESENT**

Natalie sat entranced, sitting Indian-style on the floor in front of Nick like she was a child being read a bedtime story. "You learned to play the piano... from _Beethoven_?" she asked incredulously, her words falling from her lips as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She knew Nick had known some famous people in his day, but still, this was almost too difficult to believe. Beethoven?

Nick let out a little chuckle, but it was not a happy sound. Natalie felt her heart wrench in her chest. "Nat, he was the only true mortal friend I'd ever had... He taught me so much, and I gave him nothing in return," he stated with a disgusted snort, but Natalie felt it wise not to console him.

Not only would it not work, as Nick tended to wallow no matter how much she tried to lift his spirits, he might feel inclined to stop his tale, and she did so want him to continue...

"He was invited to a party at Therese von Brunsvik's house a few weeks later. He insisted that I come with him..."

* * *

**VIENNA 1809**

"Herr Beethoven!" a cheerful voice called, bringing Nick out of his reverie. "You must tell me who this new friend of yours is..."

Beethoven had been hovering around Nick the entire night, using him to deflect pretty much any social interaction he could manage, and the more the party wore on, the more it was obvious that Beethoven was growing increasingly uncomfortable. Sadly, amongst the din, it was almost impossible for Beethoven to hear anything, let alone the polite request for an introduction that had just been posed. Nick was beginning to understand why Beethoven was considered somewhat of a social recluse and an all-around misanthrope.

In hopes of sparing Beethoven an unwanted scene, Nick bowed with a polite flourish, trying to ignore how uncomfortable he was himself with all these mortals milling about. "I am Sir Nicholas de Brabant. Pleased to make your acquaintance," he stated regally, entirely used to the situation, even if it was uncomfortable.

The man shook his hand with a smile and Nick flinched, trying desperately to ignore the moving sea of heartbeats flowing around him, a morass of talking, laughing mortals. "I am Mathias Wagner," the man responded, and Nick couldn't help but notice the strange look he gave the silent Beethoven.

After several pleasantries, the man departed, leaving Beethoven and Nick on their own in the crowd again. "Ludwig, if you don't like coming to parties, why did you come, and why take me?" he spoke loudly, hoping that Beethoven would be able to hear him over the crowd.

Beethoven looked at him, and a sad smile spread across his face, his eyes weary and pained. "Because... _She_ invited me..." he stated thickly, letting his eyes wander across the large, splendorous room to a woman standing regally amongst a few others. Her brown hair was swept up in a fancy array of curls, her white lacy dress hanging down from her body in a beautiful display of angelic grace. While she was certainly not the most beautiful woman Nick had laid eyes upon, she was certainly not one to simply pass over either.

"Ask her to dance," Nick commanded, giving Beethoven a light shove forward, but Beethoven had other ideas.

He protested vehemently, so loudly that a few people who were around turned to look at them with odd expressions on their faces, until they saw who it was. "No!" he cried forcefully, shoving back against Nick. "She would not deign to dance with a social outcast..."

"Ludwig, you are only a social outcast because you make it so. If you would just talk..." Nick began, but Beethoven interrupted him harshly.

"I canNOT! People would know from the instant I spoke that my hearing was not of good faculty. It would be a joke! Who would listen to a deaf composer's work?" Beethoven exclaimed, his voice wavering ever so slightly. He looked about ready to break into tears.

"Ludwig, if you do not request that the good lady Therese dance with you, I will depart and leave you to do your brooding alone," Nick stated with finality, and gave Beethoven another shove.

His friend looked back and forth between Nick and Therese with consternation. He obviously did not want to be left to fend for himself in such a social atmosphere, but he also did not appear to like the other option either. But whether it was his stubbornness over his poor hearing or something else, Nick simply couldn't tell. "Fine," the truculent composer grumbled, and slowly made his way over to the object of his affection.

Nick watched silently as Beethoven bowed slightly to the woman, and was happy to see that she smiled in return. Beethoven had not said as much, but it was obvious to Nick that he loved her, and Nick felt his own heart lift as she followed him onto the dance floor. It was as if he thought he could experience things through Beethoven which he could not normally even think about without terrible guilt ripping through his soul.

It was... uplifting, to say the least.

They danced for quite awhile. Nick watched in pleasure as she and Beethoven seemed to be having a very friendly conversation. She would look down occasionally with a sweet little smile, and he would smile a wonderful, airy grin back. And in those moments that Beethoven was courting his young lady love, Nick felt the strain of being in such a large crowd drain away into nothing.

"The wild and cruel Ludwig von Beethoven, and the fair Therese von Brunsvik. It is an interesting match..." someone commented beside him, obviously noticing the objects of Nick's unblinking stare.

With a slight glare, Nick looked to his side at the man who had uttered the simple statement. How dare the man interrupt! "Ludwig is not cruel," he defended, a dangerous tone entering his voice.

The small blond man held up his hands in surrender. "I meant no offense," the man said hastily, "but it is of well- known fact that while there is only one Beethoven, and his works are grand, he has not a nice bone in his body..."

Nick, surprised to find that it almost felt as if the slight had been directed at himself, had to restrain himself from grabbing the man and shaking some sense into him, but the man rushed off before he could reply. He shook his head. The man didn't understand! No one did...

The rage burned in him deeply, and he found himself growling low in his throat before he was able to stop himself. Luckily, the noise of the surrounding crowd masked his loss of control, and he was able to come to grips with himself before others noticed that they had a beast in their midst.

"Nick, thank you..." Beethoven said as he came upon him, shaking Nick out of his dangerous mood.

Nick returned Beethoven's gratitude with a weak smile, though he truly felt sick to his stomach. People disgusted him when they were so quick to judge, though he realized it probably made him a hypocrite to think such thoughts.

"Friend, we must retire. I have much to teach you tonight..." Beethoven continued, and Nick could only nod mutely, letting Beethoven drag him out to the street to their carriage. Anything to get away from all these pathetic mortals... It almost made him angry that, as of late, he'd been consumed with thoughts of joining them once again, longing for it so much at times that it pained him.

Almost, but not quite. There was no way he could let go of a centuries-long dream because of what one ignorant man had said.

"Nick, what troubles you?" Beethoven asked quietly once they were in the carriage, visibly worried.

"It is nothing of concern, I am merely uncomfortable around so many people..." Nick answered, praying that Beethoven wouldn't see his half-truth. Luckily, Beethoven seemed to accept his explanation, and they rode in companionable silence back to the waiting piano.

"Do you know how to read music?" Beethoven asked curiously as they sat down at the piano. The question had never come up before because he hadn't allowed Nick to play anything that was already written.

"Yes..." Nick answered hesitantly, wondering if perhaps Beethoven was finally going to let him play something other that his so-called heart. Although he did enjoy composing his own works, he also wanted to know how to play formally, perhaps even something that Beethoven himself had written.

"Good," Beethoven replied matter-of-factly as he produced a sheet of carefully written music. It was one of Beethoven's, that much was obvious right away. It was actually the only possibility, since it was handwritten in that familiar, almost illegible script that belonged solely to Beethoven. "Play."

Once again, for the second formal lesson in a row, Nick was shocked. He couldn't play that. There was simply no way... "Ludwig, that's too hard, I cannot simply sit down and play that..."

Beethoven laughed heartily at Nick's balking. "Nick, you have astounding ability. You've played for an hour with no music at all; this is merely changing your medium. I have great faith in your ability to play this piece. It's not nearly as hard as it appears," he tried to assure Nick. It didn't work.

"Before, you said it was an impediment..." Nick pointed out the contradiction, but Beethoven only smiled. Damn that man! He was almost impossible to argue with...

"Not now. You are ready..." he replied with a twinkle in his eye. At Nick's look of nervousness, he laughed again and grabbed Nick's hands, putting them into position, checking to make sure his fingers were curved correctly. "Now, start on the G-sharp and the C-sharp. Go ahead..." he prodded as he had done before.

Nick couldn't help but cringe when he made an attempt, only to produce a terrible sound. But Beethoven was staring at him expectantly so he began again, slowly working out the keys. It was hard. Very hard. While he knew quite well how to read music, he had never read two clefs at once before, and he'd certainly never tried to keep track of both of his hands, ten fingers in all, while he was doing so. Just moving his eyes back and forth from the page of music back to his hands was bound to make him dizzy. And then, he didn't even want to go into the issues of adding pedal and dynamics... Nevertheless, his respect for piano virtuosos increased exponentially, and at the same time he realized why Beethoven had not presented him with sheet music earlier.

"Nick, you're making it too hard. Try not to concentrate on how difficult what you're doing is, and focus more on what you're trying to do," Beethoven said soothingly.

Nick could only growl in frustration, clenching his teeth in a desperate attempt to keep his fangs from descending. "You just said what I was doing _wasn't_ difficult!" he seethed. His vicious temper was getting the best of him, and try as he might, he was having difficulty containing it...

Beethoven just smiled a secretive little smile. "It won't be, soon..." he replied cryptically, and that was almost enough to set Nick off before he was able to take control of his anger..

Taking a deep breath, Nick slowly continued. "Accidental! Don't forget the natural!" he heard Beethoven say softly. "Watch it, don't speed up!" Nick, his earlier fury re-igniting, tore his eyes from the page and looked at Beethoven with a glare of death, hoping for a brief instant that his stare would smite his teacher down where he stood.

But Beethoven only smiled as he began to count softly. Nick growled. Was there nothing that affected this man? "One, two, three, four, come on, Nick, keep the beat. One, two, three, four," Beethoven said, accentuating his counting with firm claps. And so help him, Nick felt his fingers speeding up to meet Beethoven's set rhythm. Even his eyes gradually stopped flipping back and forth constantly when Nick found he could look at the page of music and his hands would pretty much keep track of themselves.

The strains of the mournful Moonlight Sonata began softly, hesitantly, but soon Nick was pouring it out onto the keyboard. It was a song he'd heard before, he was familiar with it, and in a way, he already knew it. He was sure that Beethoven had picked this piece on purpose for just that reason, so that he could have his memory working with him instead of just his sight-reading ability.

"Ludwig, I cannot marry you. I simply cannot..."

Inhaling sharply, Nick broke his eyes briefly from the sheet of music and looked to see if Beethoven had heard that, but Beethoven was still furiously rapping out the beats for Nick to follow, completely unaware.

A quill hit the paper and began to flow: I have once again known some blissful moments, and for the first time I've had the sense that marriage can make someone happy...

Nick shook his head, his music pausing for a moment in a split second of confusion. Where was this coming from? It was like the images he received from blood, except... It was music. Music... He didn't understand, but Beethoven's furiously clapping hands drove his fingers onwards.

"Giulietta! Please!"

"No... No, I cannot..."

"Giulietta..."

His fingers stopped on the ending chord, a sad finish to a sad song... Nick finally understood the emotions that the song had always generated for him. It was Beethoven's farewell to a former love. A dedication to what could never be. But could music contain the same soul as someone's blood? He hadn't thought it possible until now...

"Good, Nick. Very good. You're a natural at this," Beethoven said with a wide smile, but the pleased look on his face faded when Nick looked up at him with blood tears in his eyes.

"Who was Giullieta?" Nick asked with a sigh and a heavy heart.

Beethoven's head snapped up in response. "How do you know her name?" he snarled accusingly, but his eyes softened when he saw Nick's bewildered expression.

"I... From the music... I just heard all of these thoughts while I was playing, and I..." Nick responded, trying to make sense of all the imagery he had been bombarded with while he had been playing. So like the blood, and yet...

"She is a woman I know," Beethoven responded bitterly, looking at the ground as he shook his head. "The song was for her, but... she is nothing to me now..."

Nick desperately wanted to press for details, but the way in which Beethoven spoke told him that the subject was not open for discussion. "That is why you hesitate with Therese..." Nick conjectured, but Beethoven would not answer. He merely snatched up his staff paper and fled the room, his quick footsteps echoing in the large room like quiet thunder.

But it was obvious. Although he denied affection for her with his words, Nick could see it hidden in the depths of his pained eyes. Beethoven had loved her, once...

*****


	4. Chapter 4

**THE PRESENT**

"So Beethoven wasn't ready to pursue Therese because of that other woman?" Natalie questioned softly, bringing Nick out of his flashback.

"No," he sighed dismally, "but he was using it as an excuse, I think. It was more his hearing problems that stopped him... You must understand that back then they didn't have sign language, at least not widely used, or anything like we do today. What his unfeeling doctors dismissed as a malady made him a cripple in his mind. After all, what was a composer who couldn't hear?"

Natalie nodded. He had a good point.

"He fell into terrible depression at times, and he was very bitter about it. Before I met him, when he had first discovered that his hearing was failing, he even contemplated suicide..."

"What stopped him?" Natalie asked, curious.

"He didn't want to die before he'd produced all the music he felt he'd been meant to compose..." Nick stated simply.

"That was his only reason?"

Nick nodded. "His only reason, at least, until Therese came along."

* * *

**VIENNA 1810**

"Nick! Wake up. I require your presence!"

Nick's eyes fluttered open, only to be startled out of his wits. Beethoven's enthused face was only a mere six inches above his own, his wild hair flaming about his head like a halo. A surprised snarl escaped his lips before he reigned in his beast. "What time is it? The sun's still up..." he grumbled, closing his eyes again. There was absolutely no way he was going to get up now... He'd been dreaming a rather pleasant dream, a rare occurrence, and he wanted to relish it. Perhaps he could get back to it if he fell back asleep fast enough.

He received a heavy, down pillow in the face for his trouble. Choking in surprise, he gasped and sat up like a released lever. "Nick, come! I have a lesson to teach you, and I cannot very well do it while you sleep..." Beethoven scolded lightly as Nick flailed about, trying to regain his equilibrium.

"Ludwig," Nick said with a hiss, so glazed with sleep that he didn't have the focus to contain his beast, "It is the middle of the day. What could possibly require my presence so urgently?" With a wide, jaw-cracking yawn, he stretched his lithe body like a cat waking up from a nap and reluctantly swung his feet down to the cold, wooden floor. This had better be damn important.

"It is imperative for you as a student to observe others learn as well..." Beethoven replied as he left the room, giving Nick his needed privacy to change, but little opportunity to protest.

Ah, so that was it. Beethoven was going to have him sit in on a lesson. That didn't seem to be worth getting out of bed in mid-afternoon for, but Nick reluctantly got dressed anyway. He would do what Beethoven asked if it meant that he learned more. For that much, he was willing to do pretty much anything.

A stab of hunger impaled him, but he forced it down. That would have to wait until later. Stumbling down the hall and down the stairs, he was greeted, to his utter surprise, by Therese. "Herr Brabant!" she exclaimed, putting her hands to her face in a gesture of surprise. Apparently she had been expecting him as little he had been expecting her.

"Fräulein Von Brunsvik," he replied with a curt nod, trying not to display how startled he was by her presence. He did not like being startled...

"Herr Brabant, I did not expect you to be up and about at this hour. Ludwig has told me that you live for the night..." Therese explained, obviously both prying for information and trying to start a conversation at the same time.

"Usually, that is the case..." Nick replied tersely, suddenly very uncomfortable under her prying, mortal eyes. The light beat of her heart did nothing to calm his insatiable bloodlust, and he was still filled with the need to sleep. He wanted to go back to the blessed safe haven of his down comforter.

"Ah, Therese!" Nick nearly sighed in relief as Beethoven entered the room, but he caught himself just in time. "Nick will be observing your lesson today. Do not pay him any mind," Beethoven assured her and guided her to the small piano bench.

"Now, did you practice this time?" he asked, his tone that of a parent talking down to a child. Therese nodded and smiled innocently, paying no mind to Beethoven's tone. Beethoven smiled back.

"All right, then, why don't you begin at the start of the second movement..." Beethoven suggested, and Nick sat back in his chair to watch.

As the minutes passed, Beethoven's clipped tones faded away into the background, and he began to pay more attention to their interaction. It was truly fascinating to watch. She would smile a teensy smile at the man, so light that it barely upturned her pale, thin lips, and he would respond with a wide goofy grin, completely uncharacteristic of his usually dour features. And, as her small hands would grace the keys ever so much more delicately than Nick ever could have managed, Beethoven would place a large hand on her shoulder, counting loudly to keep her at the right pace for the piece.

It was endearing to watch, and Nick sat back with a weary smile, no longer paying any attention whatsoever to what was being said. He was staring at the perfect example of companionship, something he had sorely lacked for most of his existence, and he realized with a pained sigh that it was one of the many things that had abandoned him after his conversion, one of the things that he truly missed and longed for.

Being a vampire, to him, meant being alone. He could no longer safely interact with the mortals which he was usually forced to feed upon, no matter how fond he was of any particular one. Beethoven, it seemed, was an odd exception in that respect, and he felt that his friend was somehow safe from his beast, although why, he hadn't a clue.

A sad frown marred Nick's face as he stared at the couple, realizing that he envied Beethoven more than ever now. While Beethoven was an exile, he was one by his own hand, and, when properly drawn out of his protective shell he could be quite sociable, though most people didn't know it, nor did they care.

Nick had sadly noticed, however, that lately Beethoven had been withdrawing more and more from society, becoming more and more of an outcast as he became more obsessed with the fact that he could barely hear. He continually worried that people would discover that he was almost completely deaf-he was very self-conscious about the matter. But despite all of that, Therese was drawing out a side of Beethoven that he did not often reveal, a side which Nick had only seen in his own presence.

Nick, though, had no one. No one at all except the companionship offered by this angry soul standing before him, tentatively courting a young woman named Therese. And perhaps, just perhaps, Nick would be able to experience the things that vampirism robbed from him through that strange companionship. Two lonely men brought together by the very things that set them apart from the rest of the world. It was almost poetic...

"Nick?"

Nick blinked, shaken from his thoughts when Beethoven speared through them with his words. He glanced around, disoriented, and was surprised to note that Therese was no longer there. Looking up at Beethoven with questioning eyes, he shifted in his seat.

"Therese left... you said goodbye. I thought you had noticed," Beethoven said with a hearty chuckle, answering Nick's unspoken question. "Where were you just now?" he asked curiously.

Nick shook his head. "I was just thinking about things, a dangerous thing when you have as many memories as I..." he replied wistfully, a heavy sigh freeing itself from his chest.

Beethoven nodded thoughtfully. "I believe I can understand that," he commented, sitting down on the chair situated across from Nick's. "So," he began, "what do you think?"

Raising an eyebrow, Nick frowned. "About what?" he asked, confused. Where was this going? Hopefully Beethoven wasn't going to drill him about the lesson since he hadn't seen anything beyond the first five minutes of it. At that thought, Nick was suddenly regretting not paying any attention.

"About _her_!" he emphasized with a wide, sweeping gesture of his hands. The expression on his face betrayed how smitten he was with Therese, but he was able to get a hold of himself quickly, and his visage grew more serious. "I think I'm going to ask."

Nick felt a lump form in his throat, his stomach feeling the beginnings of queasiness. Beethoven was going to propose to Therese? But...

What about me?

While he had just moments before been contemplating a sort of surrogate companionship, now he just felt jealous. Jealous and afraid that what had before meant two friendships, one real, and one imaginary at this point, would be reduced to dust. Nothing. Gone. And he would be completely alone again.

What about me?

Although caught in an emotional see-saw, he quelled the thought and forced a smile to his lips. "I think you should pursue it!" he exclaimed, with a tone several times more happy than he felt.

Beethoven nodded with a warm smile, but the grin faded when he saw the forced look of Nick's expression. "Nick..." he began, his face suddenly turning very serious. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"It's nothing," Nick replied, denying all existence of any problem, but he felt his stomach dropping sickly in his torso. Once Beethoven sensed that there was something wrong, he often would not let things lie, rather preferring to get to the root of the problem and expose it naked to the world.

"You are worried that this will place a barrier between us..." Beethoven said, sensing the problem in a moment of inspiration, and basically catching Nick completely off guard.

Floundering in his seat slightly at the surprise, Nick let out a small gasp that was somewhere between a gurgle and a yelp. "What? How did you know?" he exclaimed, astonished.

But Beethoven just smiled one of his cryptic smiles and reached across to pat Nick on the shoulder. "Nick, I assure you that this will not be detrimental to our friendship. Besides, I haven't even asked her yet. I..." Beethoven paused and looked down into his lap. "I've never been much good at proposals. Remember when you asked about Giulietta? She refused me," Beethoven stated glumly, and Nick couldn't help but feel sorry for the man.

Nick looked back at Beethoven sympathetically. "Why?"

"Because we were not of the same class. She didn't want to marry down..." Beethoven replied wanly. "I really thought that I would be happy with her, I really thought..." His voice trailed off in a muffled choking grunt, and Beethoven turned his face downwards.

Nick watched silently as the man's shoulders trembled, and he knew that Beethoven was crying, despite the fact that he was desperately trying to hide it. He found himself at a loss for what to do. How was he to comfort the man? It was an answer which he simply didn't know.

"I know how you feel," Nick stated softly, and Beethoven looked up in amazement, salty tears still trailing down his cheeks in lazy tracks over his dark skin.

"You do?" Beethoven asked, hope in his voice, as if the fact that he wasn't alone was enough to bring him out of the depression tugging at him.

"Yes," Nick stated, his voice strangely monotone and detached as he recalled the terrible events. "Alyssa was her name. I hoped to live with her for eternity. But I killed her instead," he said in clipped tones, not daring to look Beethoven in the eye. Guilt was threatening to drown him; he couldn't, he _wouldn't_, look up to find once kind and passionate eyes judging and cold. He just couldn't do it. He didn't have the strength.

Until he felt a hand on his knee. "Nick, you obviously repent..." Beethoven said softly, trying to reassure him. Although there wasn't complete understanding in his tone, there was certainly compassion.

"Here I am supposed to be comforting you, and you've turned the tables on me..." Nick commented woefully, forcefully shaking himself out of the doldrums into which he had sunk.

Beethoven sighed, shaking his head. "I just... I don't know if I'm ready to take rejection again," he said softly.

"Ludwig, you won't know if it's rejection until you try it. If there's one thing I've learned, it's don't put things off," Nick stated wisely, despite how ironic it seemed that the very reason he was still in that chair was because he was putting off the decision to make Beethoven a vampire.

Beethoven nodded reluctantly, coming to a decision. "You're right. I will go as soon as the hour is reasonable," he commented, glancing sidelong at the grandfather clock ticking lazily in the corner. It was nightfall, far too late to go now.

"Good," Nick stated, certain now, that it was, indeed, good. Beethoven had a large enough soul to share-he could see that now.


	5. Chapter 5

**THE PRESENT**

"So what happened?" Natalie asked eagerly, shifting in her seat in anticipation.

"He went to her house, proposed his undying love for her, and she refused him," Nick stated glumly, the weight of his years suddenly seeming to crush his tall posture into a slump.

"Ohmygod, that must've been terrible for him," Natalie whispered hoarsely, a sob strangling softly in her throat. The whole story just made her want to cry, and at the same time, she was still hungry for more. Hungry for knowledge of the famous composer who had lived and died over a century before she was born.

"It was. The first few weeks were hellish. After awhile, he withdrew completely from society, and even with me there he refused to socialize with others, but it was terrible when..." Nick paused, his eyes getting a spaced-out look as if he were already back in time, reliving the past.

"When what, Nick?" She got up off her knees and roughly shook him back to the present. There was absolutely no way she was going to let Nick get this far and then deny her an ending to the tale. "When what?"

He blinked and returned to the present. "When his hearing went completely..." he whispered forlornly.

* * *

**VIENNA 1810**

Nick was awakened from a deep slumber by a terrible crash and the sound of shattering glass. "Noooooo!" The howl was furious, wild, animalistic, but Nick knew at once who it had come from.

Beethoven...

As fast as he could, he literally flew to Beethoven's bedroom. His mentor was sitting on his bed, shaking terribly. "Please, nononono," he was mumbling over and over again, a terrible mantra, his knees clutched to his chest as though he would fall apart if he were to let go.

"Ludwig?" Nick asked loudly, aware that lately Beethoven's hearing had been very poor. Beethoven did not look up. "Ludwig!?" he shouted, but Beethoven still did not look up.

Nick sat on the bed next to Beethoven, but if the composer had noticed his friend sit beside him, he gave no indication of it. "No..." Beethoven mumbled, his voice cracking and breaking, and Nick looked down, horrified to see that there was a knife clutched pitifully in Beethoven's shaking, bone- white hands.

Suddenly panicked, Nick pried the knife out of Beethoven's grip, but not without a desperate fight. "No! No, I won't let you!" Nick cried softly as yanked at the sharp, offending object. Beethoven looked up with a sob and finally gave it over willingly.

"Nick, please, friend. Have you made your decision?" he asked shakily, his voice wavering slightly as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

Nick shook his head fitfully. Not now! Why did Beethoven have to ask this of him now? "No. No, I cannot. Not yet. I'm not ready..." he whispered, closing his eyes to the emotional pain as he realized that the inevitable had finally arrived. Beethoven merely looked at him blankly. He hadn't heard. And suddenly... Nick understood.

"Nick, I cannot hear at all now. I am not simply deaf, I am blind! I cannot live without my hearing. Please, please, if you care at all about me, please do it now..." Beethoven pleaded, pulling desperately at Nick's sleeves.

"No!" Nick replied passionately, shrugging off Beethoven's frantic hands from his shoulders as he stood up. No. He had been hesitant before, but now he simply couldn't. Beethoven's humanity was not something Nick wanted to be responsible for taking away, even if Beethoven was miserable. He simply couldn't do it... He would not be weighed down with the guilt of that as well as his other grievous sins.

Beethoven stood up behind him and looked at him furiously. "Nick, you promised me..." he whispered, his voice wavering with emotion. Nick could see his friend's lip quivering as Beethoven began to comprehend the size of his betrayal. "Please, I do not want the sun, I do not want it!" he cried pitifully, and then he was silent for several moments, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You promised..." he whispered as he sat down on the bed in defeat.

Nick couldn't help but protest, trying to save what little honor as a friend he had left. "I said that I would consider it!"

Beethoven only glared. He couldn't hear, so arguing with him would be pointless without some other means of communication. Although Beethoven had gotten better at reading lips, he was still not nearly good enough to maintain a conversation as though he could hear. "If you will not help me with this, then the least you can do before you leave is help me finish my piece..." Beethoven growled meanly, pulling Nick along with him harshly down to the piano.

"Ludwig, I don't understand..." he complained with a whimper as Beethoven forced him roughly down on the bench. Nick was too shaken to protest, although he could've easily overcome Beethoven's force had he put his mind to it.

"Finish this piece!" Beethoven cried as he placed staff paper in front of him. The only thing on the entire paper was a key signature.

Nick looked back and forth between the furious Beethoven and the empty paper, confused. He didn't understand! Why was Beethoven making him play at a time like this? "Play what you think I feel! See if you understand as much as you think you do..."

Nick wondered how he could possibly understand how Beethoven felt. He'd never been robbed of one of his major faculties... He hadn't been sick or crippled by injury since he had been mortal, all too long ago... How would it feel to long for something you knew would never come back? It felt like... like his longing for mortality. He supposed, when looking at it like that, that he had more in common with Beethoven than he had first assumed.

And Nick began to play. It started sadly at first, sad and lonely and longing for something he could not have. And he thought about the beauty of mortality, the wonderful things he couldn't even begin to fathom anymore, because he'd been so long without them. The more he thought about not having his humanity, the more dismal the song became, the more tense, and explosive. Mortality, it seemed, was out of reach. The notes contained every bit of tension that he held within himself, longing to explode into a flurry of something more spectacular, but he allowed the piece to brood a while longer with pent-up emotion. And just when the piece seemed to be calm again, his fingers exploded into a huge crescendo and a wicked descent back into the original, lonely, longing theme until he finally brought it to a close with a powerful set of octave A's.

There. That was what he thought about his loss of mortality. Beethoven's loss of hearing... That was how it felt. He was sure of it.

Beethoven was frantically writing notes beside him, and surprisingly, he did not ask Nick to repeat any part. He had been able to write the whole thing down based on where he saw Nick's fingers hit the keys. And he hadn't heard it once. It was sad.

Nick sat in silence while Beethoven put the finishing touches on the composition, and then, in his messy, cramped handwriting, Beethoven wrote the title.

Fur Therese.

"Yes," Beethoven said coldly, "I believe you do know how I feel. Strange that, even with that understanding, you will not help me."

Nick opened his mouth in astonishment, but wisely said nothing as Beethoven switched to regular manuscript paper and began to write a long flowing letter to his sweet beloved.

"I want you to take this to Therese. I lack good closure with her and I wish to smooth the waters," he whispered bitterly, handing Nick the finished letter. "Please, do not come back for a while. I am upset and am not good company," Beethoven said evenly, his voice only breaking at the end. The betrayal he felt was palpable.

Nick nodded softly in acquiescence, and he could tell that Beethoven was very angry with him. His eyes stinging with unshed tears, he went back to his room to dress, unable to let himself respond to the fury with which Beethoven had dismissed him. He would have to apologize.

Soon, he was blindly fighting through the wildly falling snow to deliver Beethoven's farewell message to Therese, and he couldn't help but wonder why Beethoven had kept the staff paper that contained the song he had dedicated to her. Was it or was it not for Therese, as the title suggested? And although Nick found it terribly odd that Beethoven had kept it, he found himself growing into a panic over another matter.

What was he to do? Beethoven was terribly angry that Nick had decided not to commit him to immortality. In the whole year that Nick had known him, Beethoven had not asked for anything in return for his kindness and hospitality but Nick's consideration over the matter of him becoming a vampire. That was all. Never any money requested, nothing. His friendship and tutelage had all been freely given.

But, needless to say, the cold had cleared his mind. He decided that, yes, he would do as Beethoven asked, no matter how much it would pain him to do so. Because however much it pained him, not bringing Beethoven across would probably pain Beethoven infinitely more than the weight of all the guilt in the world would hurt himself. If only to make one person happier from his wretched 'gift' of immortality, the result would make his own guilt over the matter worth it.

"Nicholas..."

Nick stopped cold in his tracks as the harsh wind whipped around him and stung his face, the snow making him squint against the darkness that was sitting upon him like a cloak. "LaCroix..." he whispered as he felt his stomach sinking. LaCroix had finally hunted him down...

In the howling, frost-bitten wind, LaCroix's cloak seemingly flew up around his features like a lion's mane. "It seems that I have finally found you, _again_..." he said casually, but his voice contained a lower, darker element that Nick found very threatening.

"LaCroix," Nick began reasonably, even as he found his feet backing up in the cold, wet snow, completely out of his own control.

"Enough, Nicholas!" LaCroix responded, not accepting any explanation. "I have had _enough_ of you running off... Come with me," he commanded softly, and yet with such underlying force there was no room for questioning.

But Nick found himself talking back anyway. "No!" he cried vehemently, and launched backwards on his feet, trying to gain some distance between them. But LaCroix's hands shot out and grabbed the lapels of his coat and he snapped forward like he was on a spring cord, his neck painfully flinging his head forward with the unexpected change of direction.

He growled, exposing his sharp canines to his sire as he clawed at LaCroix's firmly clenched hands, but it had no effect other than wasting his energy. LaCroix merely held him fast, wordlessly denying him escape. "Come with me," LaCroix repeated calmly, his voice low and angry. He was obviously incensed, but he was not permitting himself to act on it other than to prevent Nick's departure.

And while Nick dizzily thought about posting additional protest, he realized, dismally, that not only would it be of no use, it would lead LaCroix right back to Beethoven, something that Nick absolutely did _not_ want to do. Not if he could help it. While he may have been willing to bring the man across, he was completely unwilling to have LaCroix be witness to it, or to perhaps even do the deed himself. Beethoven would _not_ be committed to the same torment that he had been. The whole idea was unthinkable.

"All right!" Nick snapped nastily, but LaCroix still held him fast, as if he were debating the veracity of Nick's apparent acquiescence. "Let go! I'll come!" LaCroix's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. "LET GO, DAMN IT!" Nick yelled, pulling at LaCroix's hands. He kicked out with his foot, only to be dumped unceremoniously on his rear, into the cold mess of slushy snow.

"Must our meetings always be this way, Nicholas?" LaCroix asked him in a mockingly sympathetic tone as he brushed his hands off in disgust.

Nick chose not to answer, despite the anger burning deep in his chest. Must protect Beethoven... He kept that thought as close to the surface of his fury as he could manage, and with that to help him, he managed to retain the various biting comments that were so viciously trying to escape his mouth.

He got up off the ground and stared at his sire with a murderous glare, but LaCroix only smiled and turned to leave. Nick glowered, scraping the wet snow off of his cloak, and as promised, forced himself to follow his master into the dark, snowy night.

* * *

**THE PRESENT**

"Ohmygod, Nick..." Natalie whispered, pain in her voice and in her heart. "I..."

Nick stared ahead blankly. "I never got the chance to return... Ludwig probably hated me... I tried to come back and grant him his wish, but... I couldn't. God, Ludwig probably died hating me..." he said darkly, a flutter of sadness shifting across his face before he tucked it away.

Natalie sighed as she saw Nick battling with his inner turmoil. She was unable to think of any words to comfort him. There was nothing she could say that would ease his pain. "I..."

But Nick wouldn't hear her. "Just go, Nat. Please, just go..."

Natalie nodded mutely and got up from her seat, feeling guilty for even bringing up the question. She'd gotten her answer, but at what cost?

As she stepped into the lift, she closed her eyes in sadness, finally understanding why the song sounded so mournful when Nick played it the way it was meant to be played. It was an ode to his lost mortality; it had nothing to do with Therese, or Elise, as the name had been mistakenly translated. And as she slid the door shut, a tear slipped hastily down her cheek.

Nick was playing again.

~finis~


End file.
